


Different Is Good

by Princess of Geeks (Princess)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Between Seasons/Series, Blowjobs, First Time, If you only read one work by me, M/M, Romance, Season 8, gapfiller, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-13
Updated: 2010-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:13:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess/pseuds/Princess%20of%20Geeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why did Jack accept the promotion to Washington? Daniel really wants to know. I am haunted by the gap between Season 8 and Season 9. This fic is one of my explanations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different Is Good

"Why are you taking this job?"

The East Indian takeout that Daniel had brought with him, along with the bottle of red zinfandel, had been consumed, cheerfully, with reminiscing, and the last period of a hockey game had been watched. Then Daniel had made himself a pot of coffee, capturing the first painfully strong cup dripped straight from the basket into his mug, replaced the carafe, and brought the shot of pure caffeine back out into the living room. He'd snapped off the TV before Jack could reach for the remote, and then, sat down to ask his question.

Nothing out of the ordinary for a night at Jack's place, except Daniel had shown up without calling first, and after dinner had not offered even a token protest when Jack floated the proposal of televised hockey. Nothing out of the ordinary, really, at all, except for the looming deadline in Jack's life. And the equally looming additional questions behind Daniel's deceptively simple query.

Jack tilted his head, equivocation, as he answered: "Because it's a premature and rather flattering promotion, and because Hammond wants me, and because I can do so much to ensure the viability of the program here, from there in Washington."

Daniel said nothing to this bit of canned diplomacy, though Jack was rather proud of it, and of his own straight-faced, sincere delivery and the accompanying casual hand wave. But he hadn't actually thought it would impress Daniel, even when he was composing it over several mornings of shaving. Daniel took his explanation in, but continued to look at Jack expectantly over his mug, and his face acquired an expression of _"surely you don't really think I'm that stupid after all this time."_ The curl of his lip, the slight narrowing of his eyes, conveyed this perfectly well.

Jack didn't sigh, but he wanted to. He got up from the sofa and pulled open the curtain of chain links that protected the carpet in front of the fireplace from stray sparks. He carefully selected a log, and, with deliberation, took up a poker, rearranged the fire, and added it. Then he closed the spark curtain and sat down again.

He knew Daniel was intending to wait him out. All Daniel's actions from the moment he'd walked through the door with that determined, yet cheerful look on his face, kicked his shoes off and put dinner on the table, all his actions had said he had come here for a purpose, and he wasn't leaving until his purpose was accomplished.

Jack rubbed his hands on his thighs and then linked his fingers together in his lap. Staring at the renewed flames, he evaluated how tired he was, on the inside; tonight, and in general. See, on the outside he looked fine, business as usual -- desk job, less peril, newly cleaned-out knee, a second shiny star waiting for him, enemies mostly on the run all across the galaxy. No problem.

But that wasn't true. None of it, except the successful knee surgery, which he'd put off almost too long. He knew how thin the facade of happy-ending was, and Daniel knew it, too.

Daniel waited, and Jack decided he'd better answer him. With the real answer. Or, at least, part of it. Enough of the real answer that Daniel would buy it, anyway.

As Jack opened his mouth to do so, he wondered, _How much of a surprise to you is it that I'm caving now? Telling you more than the public reason for me leaving the base? But hey. Why not cave, and let you see it? Already decided to run. On top of that, caving now is no big deal.... No. Not run. It's more of a tactical, perfectly defensible retreat._

He picked up his empty wine glass and frowned at it, and set it back down. He met Daniel's patient, implacable eyes.

"It was a mistake for me to take the promotion to head of SGC. I knew it at the time. I told Weir as much at the time -- that I like the idea of making general, like it a lot, but that I really didn't want the job. Didn't want to be that much of a target for the infighting and the bureaucracy, didn't want the politics. I told her the truth then." Daniel was listening, looking just a hair surprised, but mostly interested. Focused. Attentive.

_Woah. Turn down those blue headlights, could you?_ Jack stirred, restlessness coiling in his spine and his thighs. Daniel apparently still didn't have any idea what his attention did to Jack, and Jack, you would think, would have learned how to handle it better than this after all these years. _Definitely tired. And that's no lie._

Tapping the base of his wineglass gently against the end table, Jack continued, looking anywhere but into Daniel's steady gaze. "You know I've never handled bureaucracy well. Not like Hammond did. It's not my long suit. Being out in the field is. I guess you could say this job, me as base commander, was a great example of the Peter Principle."

Daniel waited, still listening, still processing. Still wondering if there were more to be said, and if Jack would say it. When Jack let the silence stretch out, Daniel finally nodded, smiling faintly, and drank some more coffee.

He said, into his mug, "And the Washington job will certainly take you out of the politics, and out of the spotlight, and out of the bureaucracy."

Jack leaned back and rested his head on the back of the sofa. "I know, I know. I just... it's better than..." He had to get up. He couldn't sit like this, talk about things like this. He got up and started to pace. Daniel always wanted the whole truth and nothing but, damn him.

"Remember the mission where we went to warn Harry? Ended up kicking Ares' butt, found that Ancient ship with the time gizmo?"

"Sure," Daniel said. "We found the prophecy about that society's enemies being defeated, and we made it come true."

Jack nodded at him. "I had been pretty sure I'd made a big mistake before that mission -- more than once. Hell, I nearly resigned when that damn plant took over the base the day the president visited." He paused, staring at the fire, remembering how truly execrable dealing with Ba'al again had been, and how good it felt to send off Camulus and get a tiny sliver of revenge.

"So, you went off world with us because we knew you could probably fly the ship, and?" Daniel prompted.

"Yeah, and then I realized how long it had been since I'd been off world, and had, you know, some actual military risk to get into." Jack turned back to the fire.

"And how much you missed it," Daniel said softly. "Missions. Exploring. Getting into trouble with SG-1." Jack purposely didn't look at him. He knew the expression Daniel would be wearing now -- soft, inward, contemplative. The expression that especially, even more than usual, made Jack want to cup his skull between Jack's two hands and shake it just a little, then press his lips to Daniel's lips.

"Yeah," Jack said. And silence fell again. But Jack couldn't just stand there and let the silence fill with his regret and his yearning and his vision of kissing Daniel on the mouth, of slipping his glasses off and putting them in the pocket of that nerdy plaid shirt he was wearing, of nuzzling along his cheekbone and then pressing his face to Daniel's face. So he turned around. "The point is, I guess I've learned that I really, really suck at sitting there in the bottom of a hole in the mountain, watching the teams go out, over and over. If I've got to do that, day in and day out, I decided I'd better do it from Washington."

Daniel had put his cup down and was leaning back in the cushions, his arms folded, his hands hidden. He looked comfortable there. He pursed his lips. "So you're saying that you need to get a little distance."

Jack turned back to the fire. _If you knew the truth inside the truth of that statement..._ "Yeah.... But you can't go around saying that to people under you in the chain of command. You can't go around saying you hate the job they wish they had." He stood up straighter, squared his shoulders, looking at his framed medals. He hadn't taken all of them up to the office. There were too many. "So yeah. It's a great promotion, up to major general. And I can do a lot of good there, at Homeworld."

_And maybe if I'm not here, seeing you three go, sending you off, up close and personal, every few days, maybe that will be better. Maybe I won't feel like my heart's being carved away, one little sliver at a time._

It would be different, anyway. At this point, Jack had concluded, different had to be good. He heard Daniel stand and come up behind him.

"You could retire again," Daniel said, softly. He was standing close. Jack shut his eyes.

"Yeah, I could. But we're not done yet, you know? Lotta work left, for us all to do, out there."

"So you're going to keep working, from somewhere you can stand it. Stand not going through the gate anymore, I mean."

"Yeah." He could hear Daniel breathing. He really was standing quite close. Jack folded his own arms before he turned, because he was afraid that if he didn't catch hold of his own shirt, and Daniel kept standing this close, he'd wrap his arms around Daniel instead and just haul him in. Jack was very proud of how well he'd controlled himself, all this time, all these years. Being Daniel's supervisor had used up more of his self-discipline than any other relationship he'd ever had. He let go of his shirt and made his hands into fists, under his two elbows, an unconscious echo of the kind of self-squeeze that Daniel used to do.

_And your self-discipline is gonna be a huge effing comfort to you in your Bethesda condominium and in your cubicle at the Pentagon. Way to go, Jack._ But there was nobody interesting to argue with, in there. He only conducted these inner debates out of habit now. It was kind of two teen-agers, there inside him, who talked to each other about things they'd never have: Football players on TV. Supermodels in magazines. Daniel. _"Woah, gorgeous." "You can say that again."_

Only once, in a time and place Jack tried not to revisit, had he talked like that inside his head, and heard someone answer. And so, after his extra special visit to Ba'al's fortress, he'd kept on talking to Daniel inside his head. He'd kept it up for a while even after Daniel had come back. Eventually it had faded into his present habit. Eventually.

Jack smiled. Yup, he was finally crazy enough to consciously, purposely talk to himself, just like Beavis and Butthead. Sara would be so vindicated, if she were here to find out. He was a crazy old bastard. About time he got kicked upstairs.

Daniel's soft voice, speaking, this time, through the very real, very warm air of Jack's living room, wouldn't let Jack's answer lie. Wouldn't accept his rationalizations.

"I still don't understand why it's not a good time for you to retire, instead. Go on to Minnesota, like you must want to. I don't see why you're willing to simply trade a bad deal here for a bad deal in Washington."

Jack turned, just his head. He should have known that Daniel wouldn't buy it. Daniel, of course, knew him too well, after all these years. Now he'd have to offer a little more of the truth, and now he was getting to the parts that he didn't want to think about, if he could help it. The parts he always tried to shove aside when they intruded.

He'd never liked pulling out this particular impulse and looking at it closely -- this impulse to protect and organize and orchestrate that seemed to go bone-deep in him now when it came to SG-1. And he did feel it for all three of them, nowadays, but for Daniel, of course, most of all. Always for Daniel most of all. Because Daniel wasn't military. And that had made him even more vulnerable, at least in Jack's mind, and this was true even now, when Daniel had been rated for a P-90, same as any of the Marines, when he'd slowly, methodically worked his way up the award levels at the rifle range, when he'd spent years practicing hand-to-hand with Teal'c and with Jack himself and with anyone else he could find to help him. It had been a long time since Daniel had been a military liability, a civilian in need of Jack as bodyguard. Hell, even before the SGC had trained him, Daniel had always made up in courage and daring what he lacked in skill -- from that very first mission to Abydos, when he'd saved Jack's life, along with most of the first team's lives. But nevertheless, Jack's instinct to protect him had never gone away. And Jack knew that if Daniel made Jack say that out loud, it would piss Daniel off. He didn't want to tell Daniel that, and he certainly didn't want to have to try to explain what lay under the protectiveness, at the next deeper level. He really didn't want to get into that, and he had to try to stop Daniel from pushing the conversation there.

So Jack sighed. He sighed and marshaled his words again and hoped Daniel wouldn't make him say it. Wouldn't make Jack acknowledge how much of this was about Daniel. Because that was the very last secret, one that Jack still hoped to carry to the East Coast with him.

_I have to be able to **do** something, Danny. I can't go off to Minnesota alone, retired, no way to get any news of you at all. That would be... way too much like the year you spent on Abydos. And way too much like the times you went glowy._

He studied Daniel's face, remembering the way Daniel had looked, all those years ago, and measuring that against how he looked now -- sadder, wiser, more hardened, a lot more cynical, but just as passionate and committed as ever to doing what was best for all sentient beings.

Daniel waited him out, again, and Daniel's expression was just as puzzled, just as concerned as before. He licked his lips, concentrating, and Jack swallowed and made himself step back, as his dick twitched in his pants at the wet brush of Daniel's tongue, so close, in the dim light.

Daniel nodded and looked receptive and Jack rolled his eyes.

He was going to have to go on talking, dammit. He apparently couldn't avoid telling Daniel this part of the truth. So might as well just spit it out, tell him straight out, the part about what a big old control freak Jack had become in his old age. He still held out some hope that Daniel would believe this part, accept it, and then let it rest. He needed Daniel to let it rest. If he didn't, Jack would get irritated, and then Daniel would know there was even more to tell. He wanted to swear, wanted to start with _Dammit, Daniel!_ He didn't.

"It's just that, I'm not ready to retire, with the three of you still out there. The way I see it, this Washington gig is the best compromise. I'm still involved in the program, and I can do what I can do, to help, and I'm, you know, still getting intel. Still in the loop." He grabbed the poker and messed with the fire some more, unnecessarily. "I've become the world's biggest mother hen for the team, I guess. Laugh if you want to. There it is."

But Daniel didn't laugh. He nodded, and stood there and watched Jack curse at the fire and rearrange the logs in a less-efficient stack, and when Jack was done with the logs and the poker and had stepped away and started flipping through his CDs, trying to find some jazz that they both would like, Daniel went into the kitchen and poured himself another cup of coffee. Jack relaxed. Maybe he could stop talking now.

Then Jack heard the refrigerator open and close, and the cabinet next to the water heater closet, and he deduced that Daniel was turning his refill into Irish coffee. Not like him, and a sign that he meant to stay awhile yet. Jack didn't know whether to be glad or worried about that. Jack briefly considered asking Daniel to mix him one, too, but realized that as much as he was baring his soul tonight, he'd better stay sober, or god knew what he'd burst out with in the rush of revelations.

He settled on an old Miles Davis album, but after he got it going, he still couldn't sit down. He still felt restless, and Daniel might sit down too close beside him if he sat on the sofa first. So he stood there, listening to the opening bars of "Kind of Blue." He glanced up when he heard Daniel's tread on the stairs, and winced, because Daniel was intently licking the spoon he'd used to mix up his hot drink, as he came. Jack looked away.

Daniel sat down on the sofa again, and after a minute, Jack sat down at the other end.

"That really smells good," Jack said, as the waft of hot Bushmill's and coffee and cream reached his nose.

Daniel, without a word, held the mug toward him, looking at the fire and not at Jack. Jack took a warm sip. Daniel had added just a little sugar, too. It was perfect. Jack took a second sip, because he couldn't resist, and handed back the mug.

"Just like at the old Buena Vista," Jack said, lightly, happily. But Daniel didn't take up the thread. Usually when Jack said something like that, it would lead them along into a discussion of shared memories, of places, of people, of changes in the world, of politics. There was a lot you could say about San Francisco, then and now, but Daniel didn't choose to say it. He went back to the topic at hand, and Jack's heart sank.

"So, you can't stay here, but you can't retire either," Daniel summed up. "Because you need to be in the loop. You don't want to give up your influence, or your connection to the program, or to the team."

"You don't want to talk about the Buena Vista? Or Irish whiskey? Or the otters or the waterfront or earthquakes?" Jack made his voice just a little plaintive.

"No," Daniel said, and he smiled, and it was the fleeting and sweet smile of the Daniel of Abydos, just for a moment, just for a flash. "I want to talk about you."

"Boring," Jack said.

"To you, maybe."

"Maybe you'll have to make me one of those of my own, then, if I have to talk about me."

"Sorry. This was the last of the Bushmill's." Daniel sounded so smug. It made Jack smile on the inside.

"I thought it tasted kinda strong," Jack said, and he met Daniel's laughing eyes, then, and held out his hand for another taste. His fingers met Daniel's on the mug, and Jack looked away and drank. Less than half the mug was left. Daniel should be flying, tipsy. Who knew what he might say next. Jack's heart wanted to pound. He breathed quietly and made it slow down.

But Daniel said nothing. He didn't keep asking questions. He didn't make Jack talk some more about himself.

Instead, they sat there in silence, listening to the understated, uber-cool, yearning jazz from the fifties.

The rebuilt fire, bright and cheerful, sent clear orange light into every corner of the room. Jack would miss this house, he mused. He'd made a lot of good memories here, in the years since he'd bought it practically sight unseen, fleeing from the wreckage of his marriage, numb and shell-shocked. Lotta good times since then. Lotta laughter, lotta sweet dreams. What a surprise it had all been -- his life since he'd been called back to service. His life since the Stargate. Since Daniel. There had been bad times, sure, bad entire years, but they were past now. Things were good. Mostly.

He glanced aside at his friend, the sweet bite of the coffee still lingering in his mouth. Daniel was sipping, watching the flames. Apparently he'd accepted Jack's explanations, and Jack was very grateful. Daniel wasn't going to pester him any further. What torture could never pull out of Jack, this man could, with the flick of a finger, with the lift of an eyebrow. Jack curled the side of his mouth, smiling, and let himself lapse into that no-place of mental rest that fishing, fires and the night sky could give him. He stopped thinking, but he never lost his awareness of the warm package of restless energy that was Daniel, slumped beside him on the sofa cushions.

The whole CD played through, and at last, the whisper of Jimmy Cobb's brushes faded into the dark, chasing the ebbing firelight and the shivering shadows it made, into the corners of the comfortable room. Daniel stirred, and set his empty cup on the table, and pushed his glasses up above his eyebrows with his fingertips and rubbed his eyes, circling outward. He huffed out a big sigh.

"I guess I'll head on home." He met Jack's eyes. "Thanks. This was nice. I needed this."

"You could stay, if that whiskey's gone to your head."

"Nah. I had plenty of food to soak it up. I'm fine to drive."

"I'm just sayin'." Jack heaved himself to his feet and followed Daniel up the steps to the door.

"I know, Jack. I can stay anytime. I'm welcome anytime."

"Just so you know." Jack wondered at the note of sadness in Daniel's voice, but the words were simple truths, echoes of Jack's own words, spoken many times. They had been true for a long time, and he knew it, and Daniel knew it.

Daniel gathered his things and then stood there by the door, searching Jack's face so long that Jack got restless under the scrutiny, fearing a resumption of the interrogation, and so he reached for the doorknob and started to turn it. "Drive safe," was on his lips, but the words stayed trapped behind them, because Daniel put his hand on Jack's wrist, and Jack, startled, didn't turn the knob. He glanced up. Daniel was still frowning, but now he looked determined again. Determined and scared.

"What?" Jack said, and Daniel let go of his wrist. He had his car keys and his jacket in his other hand. He didn't say anything and he didn't step back and he didn't stop frowning. He leaned in, and cupped Jack's cheek with damp cool fingertips, and kissed him.

Jack was startled into stillness. But Daniel didn't seem a bit confused, or concerned that Jack couldn't gather the moxy to kiss him back. Daniel just kissed, pressing warm dry lips to Jack's slightly parted, softly unresponsive ones. His eyes were shut. Jack, stunned, couldn't close his own.

Two, three, little kisses, and then Jack woke up enough to clutch at Daniel's forearm, but Daniel, undeterred, pressed his hand more firmly against Jack's jaw and tilted his head and pushed a little harder, made the kiss deeper, so that Jack felt a whisper of tongue. Time seemed to stop. Then Daniel drew back a bit, let the kiss fall a notch in intensity, and he savored Jack's slack mouth for a moment more, and then there was the clinging withdrawal of those lush, ripe lips, and Daniel straightened and let go of him, and Daniel smiled.

Jack stood there. Daniel laid a finger on Jack's lips.

"What you don't know, is that Sam already told me that she's put in for a transfer to Area 51, and I'm finding it hard to believe that you didn't already know that, too. Also, you know as well as I do that from now on, Teal'c is going to be on Dakara as much as he's going to be here, and that if you are not his face-to-face CO any more, his loyalty to Earth will be reduced by a factor of ten."

Daniel paused. But Jack remained sideswiped by the ebbing feel of his kisses, and by the press of his finger. Jack didn't move or try to speak.

Daniel went on, "You know that it's ... personal for Teal'c. It always has been. And what you're saying is, it's personal for you, too. Which I knew. But I just..." Daniel closed his eyes for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was lower and more urgent. "I think it got personal for you a long time ago. I know it did for me. So, yeah."

He stepped back and removed his finger. Jack raised his eyebrows. He was still too surprised to say anything.

"So, that's... just... I just wanted to do that. So you would know."

Somehow, Jack found his voice. "That it was personal. And that you knew that," he croaked.

"Yeah," Daniel said, his eyes lighting up, his mouth blooming into his quick half-smile. He was happy to have been understood. He nodded, and it seemed final.

He said, "Good night, Jack." And he opened the door, and was gone.

Jack stood there.

_Holy crap._

Jack paced for a while. Then he sat down in front of the glowing embers again and watched them for about an hour. Then he went to the phone and called Daniel. He woke him up. Very unusual, that Daniel would be asleep so early, even after a night out. It must have been all that alcohol. Maybe Jack shouldn't have let him drive home after all. His mind shied away from the implications of having Daniel here, sleeping in a bed in this house, under this roof, after that kiss. Holy crap.

" 'Lo?"

"It's me."

"Oh." Jack could almost see what Daniel was doing... sitting up in bed, rubbing his face, the phone held against his ear. Jack wondered if Daniel slept with a shirt on when he was home alone, or if his chest would be exposed, if his nipples would be peaking in the cool air of his bedroom.

"Jack? Are you there?"

"I'm here."

"Are you angry? I didn't think you were angry, but I've misinterpreted your reactions before. Not often, but I have."

Daniel still sounded kind of sleepy. Jack said, "No. I'm not angry. Just... surprised, I guess."

"Okay, good. So I can still speak 'Jack.' "

Jack chuckled in spite of himself. He realized he didn't need to have this conversation. He'd wanted to hear Daniel's voice, and he had. Now he just wanted to hang up. He wanted to see what would happen next, but anything that would happen would be happening tomorrow.

"Go to sleep, Daniel. Sorry I woke you."

"That's it?"

"Yup. For now."

"For now?"

"For now."

"Huh. Okay.... Good night, Jack."

"You said that already," and dammit, his voice got flirtatious. He usually kept it under control better than that. But it wasn't every night that Daniel hauled off and kissed him goodnight, either.

"Yes. I did," and Daniel's voice was rich and flirtatious, too, and he hung up the phone.

It was another couple of hours before Jack went to bed.

^^^^

The next morning, Jack was sitting in his office, manfully excavating his inbox, his second cup of coffee at his elbow. He was pretty sure that in the pile somewhere was a piece of paperwork that would formally separate Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter from the SGC and assign her to Area 51. Carter had nagged him about looking for it and getting it off his desk, just yesterday.

Daniel appeared in the doorway and knocked on the jamb, as was his habit. Jack looked up. Daniel blushed. Jack looked down and twiddled his pen. He was probably blushing a bit himself. It felt nice.

"Hey," Daniel said, just like always. Pretty much. "Got a minute?"

"Sure," Jack said, looking up again. Daniel had kissed him. He had managed to sleep, but Daniel had kissed him goodnight. Jack was pretty sure this was going to change everything, but here they were again. Bantering in his office, first thing in the morning. Same old.

He waited to see what would happen, waited for the flash of inspiration that would show him the next step. Daniel had stopped blushing, and now he had That Look that meant he was up to something. Jack frowned.

Daniel said, "I have an idea. More of a deal, really."

"Dan-iel." The second syllable rose ominously. Daniel looked around, afraid Jack's tone would cause Walter to come running.

"No, really. Hear me out." Daniel straightened, and raised a hand, as if lecturing. "If you're going to Washington, then I want to go to Atlantis. In light of the other stuff that's about to happen."

"The other stuff." Jack's eyes got wide.

"The stuff we talked about -- the stuff with Sam and Teal'c."

Jack sighed. Oh. That other stuff. He frowned. Had Daniel ever missed an opportunity to raise the ante? Never. And Jack supposed this blunt kind of ... deal ... made a certain amount of sense, in Daniel logic. But there was no way.

"No," he said.

"Jack."

"No." He met Daniel's eyes, and he let it show -- the decade of whatever it was that Daniel knew was there already, or Daniel wouldn't have kissed him. Daniel's mouth worked for a moment, silently, but Jack's blunt refusal, once again, barely slowed him down.

"Why not?"

"You know why not."

"Tell me again." Daniel's voice was earnest and yearning.

"It's too far. And we need you here."

"Jack--"

"No."

Daniel looked then, really looked at what he was seeing in Jack's face. He folded his arms and looked at his feet. "I'll make it worth your while."

Jack looked shocked. Daniel looked sheepish.

"Are you resorting to bribery? Blackmail? A low blow like that?" Jack didn't know whether to be amused or deeply appalled.

Daniel looked at him over his glasses, arms still folded. "I need to go to Atlantis, Jack. You know I do."

"No."

Daniel straightened. "Fine. I'll wait for your replacement to be named, and then I'll get him or her to approve it."

"You think I can't stop you from going from Washington?"

"Gonna be a whole new ballgame, Jack. You're leaving. Teal'c's leaving, and so is Sam. You're being unfair and selfish and furthermore, you know it. You told me so last night. What were the words you used? M--"

"Don't say it."

"Mother hen, I believe it was."

Jack frowned. Daniel played dirty. Always had, always would. But. Atlantis.

Jack thought he understood. He really did. He thought of the way Daniel had begged to be on the initial exploration team, and the way Hammond had indulged him and taken him on that first run by ship, except they'd lost the ship instead. Ever since, Daniel never let an opportunity to beg for reassignment go by, and now, Jack had to admit, he had right on his side. Fate had handed Daniel a bunch of extra ammunition. If everyone who mattered to Daniel was leaving the SGC, if the team was finally flying apart, then why shouldn't he go to Atlantis?

Why not, indeed.

It all became real to Jack, all of a sudden, the changes ahead. These weren't moves on a chessboard. These weren't contingency plans. This was a go. He closed his eyes.

He'd spent years coming home to the same place, years doing the same job with the same people. With this person. This man, this friend, this .... this Daniel. Jack had no words for the relationship they had now. They were married, sort of. They might as well be, anyway, except for the, you know, the sex part.

Jack opened his eyes, and they stared at each other. Jack could feel it, like a looming checkmate. He knew, down deep in his soul, that telling Daniel to stop exploring, stop reaching, stop looking into the mystery of the Ancients was like telling fire not to burn, like telling the waves not to break on the shore.

_But I don't want to lose this. Any of it. I don't want to lose you._

He had come so close to saying it out loud last night. Daniel must have sensed that, and simply waited. Daniel knew what they were to each other. He couldn't not know, after all this time.

Daniel was always looking ahead, looking at the next thing. When had Jack started conserving? Started thinking about keeping what he had, instead of reaching for the future? Was this simply the result of the decade of age he had on Daniel? Or was it something more fundamental about the two of them?

Time never stopped. Change never stopped. You could deny it, until people and opportunities left you behind, but you couldn't make it stop. Jack knew this. And Jack had forgotten it. Because Jack had wanted to forget. Jack, ensconced in this office, hiding behind being The Man, had fallen for the ultimate illusion: The illusion that he was in control.

This was Daniel, still standing before him, his face promising a tantrum, and Daniel, unlike him, in a misspent life had never fallen for the seduction of the control thing. Daniel had many flaws, and Jack knew most of them quite well, but that was not one of them. Jack suspected this fact had nothing, in fact, to do with their age difference. This was more fundamental. He had arrived at a place he wanted to stay. But not Daniel. Daniel kept moving. Daniel expected change and nothing but. He would be exploring and risking and wanting and yearning until the day they put him in the ground. Or the day he turned into pure white light again. Jack shivered.

He covered it by saying, "So, this bribe you're offering me. It better be good."

Daniel didn't smile. Maybe all the fun had gone out of the joke for him, too, all of a sudden. He looked down, looked around. Maybe he was realizing what he'd just put on the table, and what it meant. How one kiss had changed the terms of their friendship, and changed the way they joked. He backpedaled. "We can discuss my terms later."

"I look forward to it," Jack said, with false heartiness, and with a flourish of his pen, he looked down, realized what was in front of him, and with never a bobble he signed off on Carter's transfer to Nevada, and then he pulled the next file folder from his inbox and flipped it open.

When Daniel left, he didn't close the door.

_I'll see your bribe, and raise you...._

^^^^

Jack was standing at the check-in desk at the city airport that backed up to Peterson, double checking the flight log he'd filed, not worrying, not quite yet. Daniel was twenty minutes late, but that might be Daniel or that might be the traffic. Daniel got passive-aggressive at the weirdest times and over the weirdest things. But they were in uncharted territory now, flying blind, as well as all the other cliches for confused, lost and uncertain you might care to throw in. But, using a long-polished trick, Jack had told Daniel to meet him here about a half an hour before he really wanted Daniel to be here, so by Jack's trip clock, they were still right on time.

He turned at the sound of the door, at the sound of bustling. Here was Daniel, red-cheeked from the cold, holding a carry-on, with his computer backpack over one shoulder.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "There was this..." he sketched an outline with his free hand. Jack smiled.

"No problem." Jack didn't touch him, or say anything else, just finished up his paperwork, and then led the way out onto the concrete to the leased Cessna.

He tried to remember the last time he'd flown Daniel somewhere, and he could come up with a memory of Daniel in a headset, and the land spooling away under them, but he couldn't place exactly when it was. It had been a long time, and he couldn't remember if it had been just them, or the four of them, or what.

Daniel didn't seem to have much to say. He stayed a step behind Jack, and without protest or comment, he climbed in the plane, stowed his stuff where Jack indicated, and settled in.

The pounding of Jack's heart was only to be expected when he was flying a new plane for the first time. Just normal take-off jitters. No problem.

^^^^

He sat, at ease, once again, in front of a fire with Daniel at his elbow. But it was the homemade hearth of his Minnesota cabin, not the big rock chimney of the Springs house, and Daniel was drinking camomile tea and reading a book written in Latin, instead of drinking Irish coffee and making Jack say things Jack would rather not admit out loud.

They had landed uneventfully at Hibbing, picked up the rental there, stopped in town for provisions. They had grilled the ribeyes and baked the potatoes and tossed the salads and eaten. Jack had drunk two beers. Daniel had drunk one and switched to tea. They had washed the dishes, and now, here they were. Waiting uneasily for bedtime. Well, Jack was uneasy. Of Daniel's mood, he couldn't be sure. The guy looked just like he always did. Buried in his book, intent, distant, gorgeous.

Jack had an open issue of National Geographic on his knee, from the previous winter. He was pretending to read. Mostly he was looking at Daniel over his glasses.

Daniel got to the end of his chapter, and sighed. He picked up the folded sheet of yellow legal paper he'd been using for a bookmark, and stuck it in the book. He shut the book and put it on the sofa beside him. He looked at the pad and pen he'd laid on the coffee table, handy for taking notes, should he want to do that. Finally, he glanced over at his backpack, his laptop still zipped inside it. Jack noticed years ago that Daniel rarely went anywhere without books and notepaper and journals and even his computer. Sometimes he never touched them, but they still went with him. Jack was pretty sure they served Daniel the way that blanket had served Linus van Pelt.

Jack never really got attached to objects in the way Daniel did. He bought and sold trucks all the time, enjoyed getting new clothes and shucking the old ones off to Goodwill or the Salvation Army. But Jack did, he knew, get attached to places. And when he couldn't help himself, and even though he knew better, he got attached to people.

Daniel lifted his eyes from his backpack and met Jack's. They stared at each other for a moment, and Jack's heart began to thud. He'd taken this promotion, and Daniel had called him on it. Daniel had kissed him goodnight, eleven days ago, and here they were. They hadn't talked about it since, but here they were. Just the two of them, with a long weekend's leave stretching ahead.

Daniel took off his glasses, folded them, and set them on top of his book. Jack swallowed. It was curious, how Daniel's familiar features still had this effect on him. Daniel was gorgeous. Had always been gorgeous. Would always be gorgeous. He would be gorgeous at seventy. Jack hoped he was still around to notice. And that they were living in the same galaxy at the time.

Daniel cleared his throat. "I know it was me, it was I, I should say, who got us into this. Set in motion the sequence of events that led to this, but I, now that, uh, the moment is upon us I'm quite ridiculously...."

"Nervous?" Jack offered. "Uncertain? In over your head?"

"All of that, yeah," Daniel said, trying for defiant, and linking his hands around his knee. Gripping hard. Jack closed his magazine and got up and came over and knelt on the floor. Daniel looked stunned.

Jack said, "Why should I be the only one suffering, I ask you?"

"Suffering," Daniel chuckled, but it was a very nervous chuckle. Jack looked at Daniel's knees, Daniel's hands, and put his own hands flat on Daniel's two thighs, pressing gently, not moving. Daniel's legs were warm and solid through the denim.

"Well," Jack amended. "Suffering may be too strong a word."

"You're nervous, too."

"I'm nervous, too," Jack agreed. Jack looked at his hands, and then he moved them gently, toward the bend in Daniel's midsection that was his lap, marked by the rumpled denim around the zipper, the opening of his pockets, their white lining just visible. He moved his hands back, in toward his own body. Daniel made this indefinable noise -- like a smothered yelp. Jack smiled.

"You made me admit most of why I'm going to move away to D.C. Then you guessed the rest, and then you kissed me goodnight," Jack said. "And then, you had the nerve to offer to bribe me with your body if I'd let you go to Atlantis. I was pretty pissed off about that later. You have a very weird sense of humor, Doctor Jackson."

He kept his hands moving, toward Daniel's groin, and then back to his knees. Daniel had shifted his hands, spreading them out along the back of the sofa, though he wasn't leaning back. He seemed tense. Jack inhaled, and then let himself look right at Daniel's crotch, right where his dick would be under his jeans. Daniel was getting hard. The jeans weren't tight, but Jack could see the outline of Daniel's penis, lying along the line of the zipper.

"Jack," Daniel said, and he still sounded a little choked.

"What," Jack said, distracted. He was looking right at Daniel's dick. He had his hands on Daniel in a place he'd never dared, never felt he could, touch him before. They were alone. Daniel had come with him to the cabin. Daniel had called his bluff, and now he had called Daniel's. Everything was on the table now. Everything.

"That can't be good for your knees."

"My knees are fine." Jack's palms were pushing in again, in toward Daniel's waistline, and Daniel leaned and reached, and he cupped his hands around Jack's jaw and kissed him for the second time.

Once again, it was careful and gentle and warm. Fleeting taste of tea and lingering taste of Daniel -- warm and tart. Jack opened his mouth and squeezed his hands on Daniel's quads. Daniel moaned, low in his throat, and there was his tongue.

They were way too good at this making out thing, considering they were doing it for the first time.

Daniel pulled back a little. He was breathless. "Won't people wonder, if we're here alone together for four days? We've never gone anywhere alone like this. Surely people have gossiped for years, but I didn't think, I didn't know if you would really want to... I mean, I knew, I suspected, that you really wanted to... but to come up here, to bring me up here..."

"You bribed me. You threw down your gantlet. What did you expect me to do." Jack had his eyes closed, and when Daniel started talking, Jack just continued to kiss him, but kissed along his jaw, tasting his skin, licking a little, while Daniel talked. He kept kissing in the pauses as he answered. It was making Daniel shudder, and gasp a little. That make Jack happy.

"I just, I know, but, I just.... Jack," Daniel said, and his arms came around Jack's shoulders, lifting, urging, and Jack smiled and got up onto the old sofa beside Daniel and gathered him in. They held each other, inhaling the scent of hair and skin and shampoo and the day. Jack could smell the smoke from the charcoal fire on Daniel's collar and in his hair. He put his face against the soft skin just below Daniel's ear, and nuzzled.

Jack said, "I really want you to take your clothes off now. Can we do that?"

Daniel made that noise again -- longer than a yelp, deeper than a whimper.

"I did not just whimper," Daniel said, reading Jack's mind. Daniel turned his head, pushing his cheek against Jack's, and found his mouth again.

Oh, Christ, this was Daniel, not holding back. This was Daniel, unleashed. Jack let him explore, let him push his tongue into Jack's mouth. Jack just held on to Daniel's shoulders, and melted. Daniel kissed him, wetly, deeply, and held him close. Finally, when Daniel pulled back, gasping for breath, Jack opened his eyes to see Daniel's wild eyes, his wet, stung lips, and to feel Daniel's hands clutching at his shoulders. Jack smiled.

Daniel licked his lips. He looked utterly overwhelmed. "We're really going to do this?"

"Going to do this? Future tense? Where I come from, this is doing it, girlfriend."

Daniel laughed, almost in spite of himself, Jack thought, and put a hand to Jack's cheek. Jack lay back against the old musty cushions and let him look, let him see. Daniel ran his knuckles along Jack's jaw, caressed his neck, found the top button of his shirt.

But he got distracted. His fingers fumbled and stilled, as he kissed Jack again on the mouth, and then dipped to kiss along Jack's jaw. Jack's turn to groan, and let his head fall back into the couch cushions. Daniel smiled -- Jack could feel it -- and kissed that soft, sweet spot just under Jack's ear, and went on to nibble at Jack's earlobe.

"Daniel," Jack said, strained and hoarse. Daniel kept smiling and nibbling. Then he leaned back. Jack opened his eyes, his ear and neck cold where Daniel's spit was drying.

Daniel was standing up. Daniel was swiftly unbuttoning his shirt, unzipping his jeans. Then he sat down again, his clothes hanging open, inviting. The next kiss was immediate and urgent, but Jack was mostly noticing the way his hand slid under the front of Daniel's shirt, wound its way down Daniel's ribs to slip under the waistband of his underwear.

"Oh, Christ," Daniel said. He got very still. Jack went quiet too, leaning his face against Daniel's, watching his hand as he eased Daniel's dick out of his boxers and open fly. "I'll, I'll... You have no idea what you do... what touching .... Jack...I'm going to..."

Daniel clawed at him and leaned back, as if bracing for impact.

His penis was thick and hot and satiny. Jack watched his hand close around it and start to stroke. He had dreamed this, for years. But he wasn't dreaming now.

"Jack!"

Jack leaned over and squeezed and stroked and he was in time, just, to catch Daniel's semen in his mouth. The taste was bitter, and it stuck in Jack's throat, and it had been too long. He'd forgotten how to swallow. He took in what he could, holding Daniel carefully in his mouth, tasting him, until the luscious warm spasms stopped, and then he slowly pulled off and cupped Daniel's penis and balls in his two hands, and waited, watching him come down. He wanted to hold Daniel close, to let go of his dick and hug him again, but he couldn't let go. To cup Daniel like this, touch him just here, gently, intimately, and watch him, post-orgasm, was too amazing. Jack swallowed again, Daniel's come still bitter and rich in his mouth, and licked his lips. He felt dizzy.

Daniel had turned his face away, as if he, on the other hand, couldn't bear to watch. He was panting.

"Daniel," Jack said, and he made the name a caress. Daniel reached blindly out with one hand and connected with Jack's shoulder. The touch jolted Jack, brought his focus back to himself, his own body, and away from the way he'd been drinking up Daniel with his eyes. He was hard, straining against his own jeans, leaning forward, all his muscles taut.

"Love you," Daniel said, his voice clogged and reluctant, and Jack could move then, as if the words were a spell of release. He gently let go of Daniel, and then put his head against Daniel's chest and snuggled up to him and waited. Daniel's arms came around his head. Two of Daniel's shirt buttons made little uncomfortable imprints in his cheek.

After a bit, Daniel stirred and pushed, and Jack rocked himself to his feet. He stripped off his long-sleeved t-shirt, and used the hem of it to wipe up Daniel's come, the part he hadn't managed to swallow and that had spilled onto his stomach. Daniel watched him, still with that lost, amazed look. His hair was ruffled.

Jack didn't speak. He cocked his head, indicating the bedroom. He reached out a hand, and pulled Daniel up with him, and Daniel stumbled a little, clutching at his waistband.

When they arrived at the bed, Daniel shucked out of his clothes, and Jack quickly stripped. He lay down and lined himself up against Daniel's body, feeling so calm. Bluffs had been called. Cards were on the table, winnings collected. Jack smiled, and then groaned, because Daniel was kissing him again, gently, softly, sweetly, and taking Jack's erection in his warm smooth fist.

The friction was perfect, the grip was just tight enough. Jack sagged under the inexorable impact of Daniel's attention, and let it happen. He moaned into Daniel's mouth, and came all over his hand and all over the bedspread.

He felt asleep holding Daniel against his heart.

When Jack woke out of a light doze, Daniel, still sans glasses, was slowly petting him, looking at his skin, while leaning on an elbow. The bedside lamp was on, and Daniel had pulled the covers over their legs. Daniel was frowning. When he saw Jack was awake, he stopped his petting. He poked Jack in the chest, not very gently, as he spoke.

"Look. You had a chance to quit. We could have done this months ago, aired this all out. We could both have quit and moved up here. But you didn't do that."

_Uh-oh. I was sawing logs; he was thinking._

"You could have made that happen. Obviously you knew exactly how I felt about you. But you didn't want that."

Daniel was getting himself all worked up. He quit poking Jack and sat up and scrubbed his hair. He drew his knees up and looked out into the dark, small room. Jack wondered what he was seeing.

Daniel said, with regret, "You chose to move away. You chose that."

He turned back to Jack and smacked a hand against the mattress, frowning.

Jack shook his head. He grabbed Daniel's forearm, stroking his thumb along the line of bone. "Will you listen to yourself? You really want to go there? Blame me for all this? Tell me the truth. Straight up. Are you really done working? Really done stepping through the gate?"

Daniel glared at him.

"Done with all that? Done with exploring, with fighting. Done."

Daniel's eyes narrowed, and Jack could feel him resisting, like Jack was backing him into a corner.

Jack continued, "Are you really ready to hang it up and come out here with me and live on love?"

Daniel smiled in spite of himself. He looked down at Jack's hand on his arm, and it was boyish, the way he went from defensive back to sheepish. He covered Jack's hand with his and lay down on his back. Jack exhaled.

"I'm sorry," Daniel said. "You're right. Blaming you is much easier than kicking my own ass." He let go of Jack and scrubbed his face again, and turned and eased closer. He put his hand under the covers and found Jack's hip. "Sorry."

Jack closed his eyes and edged in, too, getting his soft package under Daniel's hand. It was warm. Comforting. He turned his head and pressed his face into Daniel's shoulder. God, this felt good. Skin. Warmth. Daniel. God, he would miss this, now that he'd had it. Lying against Daniel, under his hand, made him start to harden again, and Daniel's hand took notice, and curved accommodatingly to fit Jack's shape.

"So now we're even," Jack said.

Daniel snorted.

Jack went on, not moving, "So. You win. You can go. I'll sign the paperwork Monday."

Daniel turned and shifted so that they were hugging, wrapped close, face to face. "I should be delighted. I should be shouting and dancing with glee," he said.

"Hey, your bribe worked. You're very persuasive. Quite the blackmail artist. You have a gift."

"Stop it.... So, we've traded the closet, and all this emotional frustration, for a really stupid and inconvenient and lonely long-distance relationship."

"Sexual frustration. You left out sexual frustration."

"That too."

"Hey. Be careful what you wish for," Jack said, face still snuggled against Daniel's skin.

"Well. It'll be different."

Jack wanted to burst out laughing. He didn't. He kept his mouth pressed against Daniel, and kept the joy there inside, in his gut, where he'd need it, to keep warm. To keep going, in the long dark months ahead. He smiled.

"Different is good," he said.

end


End file.
